


Between Desperate and Divine

by Seek_The_Mist



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beltane, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Emotional, M/M, Ronan always has too many feelings, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/pseuds/Seek_The_Mist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the wake of spring, summer fast approaching, Ronan and Adam launch themselves in the celebrations of Beltane.<br/>Even when everything is malleable and changeable, reassurance can be found.<br/> </p><p>  <i>"In the light of the fire his eyes followed Persephone’s creation on Adam’s features, raven’s feathers bending and crossing to frame his blue eyes. He looked like he just lifted his face from Ronan’s shoulder and got forever imprinted by the black tattoo there. </i></p><p>  <i>The drums were beating and beating and beating."</i></p><p> <br/><b> Pynchweek - Day 3 - Caught </b><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Desperate and Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I can finally write the stuff that has been tormenting me since the first time I read the prompts for the Pynchweek!
> 
> This thing seriously grew into a monstrosity...
> 
> The AU of this fic assumes our beloved characters all alive in a version of the Glendower's era in which not everything is going downhill. The clique is still amazingly gifted and they are what will go down in history as the magical members of the King's court.
> 
> Beltane, as we all might well know, is the celtic festivity between summer and spring, a marking of fertility, renewal and wonder.
> 
> The title comes for "Caught" of Florence + The Machine, which I've been singing to myself all day.
> 
> Again, no beta, no native language, tons of smut because what's a Beltane without sex.

The beat of the drums was steady at the borders of the forest, among the tents and the remote clutter of people, building up the rhythm of the night to come.  
Dusk light embraced the sky, the Sun long gone but still clinging to the West and painting it in a lighter blue while darkness fast-approached from the East.  
The air was full of the scent of freshly cut wood, ash, and the subtle suggestion of fire while the evening came alive with hundreds of bonfires. 

Even in the distance, through the white fabric of the tent, Ronan could clearly the moment the fire arch leading to the King’s stance successfully lighted up, an orange and mobile reflection on the cotton.

The drums kept beating.

Ronan could feel them just as clearly as he could feel his heartbeat, trying to get attuned to them instead of letting them coil around his stomach.

He pressed his lips together, shored up against the table with his arms straight and his weight rested upon his palms.

“Noah, that’s enough”

A slick sound accompanied a turn of fingers inside him.

“Are you sure?”

He clenched his teeth to munch an appropriately brusque reply that did not promptly emerged while the too intimate presence started to withdraw, only to come back a second later.  
His legs, slightly parted, shook in time with the slide.

He felt even wetter, it ought to be impossible. 

“ _Noah_ , for fuck’s sake” he snarled.

The jovial laugh behind him was way too carefree, “That would be kind of the point!”.

Ronan rolled his eyes but did draw half a breath while he was finally left to his own devices. Utterly sodded with ceremonial ointment, okay, but at least empty.

“Stop mocking, I’m the last one here and it’s not like I can be late” he gruffly countered, turning around to face Noah, in his blue and white gown, wiping his hand on a cloth. “Still sure you don’t want to come?” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Noah empathically shook his head, multiple times for the sake of properly stressing the concept, while Ronan redressed – as much as you can possibly consider yourself “dressed” in linen undergarments that barely reached your knees. 

“No way, thanks, I just finished doing my part here. I don’t like the forest at night”.

He sighed, “Cabeswater won’t hurt you, you know it”.

“But it’s _alive_ and everything pulses with possibility!” Noah highlighted again.

“It’s Beltane. That would be the point” he echoed with a smirk, starting to make his way out of the tent and stoically not thinking about how his damn backside felt while moving.

“You’re nervous, though” Noah soft interjection made him stop in his track, one hand on the flap of the tent.

He only vaguely turned his head around, blue eyes evasive, “It’s just the wait”.

He did not linger in waiting for a response and only kept the entrance open for Noah to exit with him in the open.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Everything was louder, moving restlessly in a game of lights and shadows, fires all around the camping to counter the night and fight the residual chill of a spring not yet summer.  
Eyes followed him while he made his way towards the forest path, signed by a line of torches. 

With all Glendower's courtesans and several villagers in their best clothes, the King’s Five were easily spotted: more naked than dressed, surrounded by the high priestess and priest, on a path of light visible from yards away, right on the edge of the raven-shaped camp.

Gansey, his skin glistening with streaks of gold and silver paint, was in the process of trying to animatedly discuss something with Henry, the same shade of gold dotting his black hairs and geometrical designs of black paint on his chest and arms.  
Their conversation kept getting side-tracked by Blue, ushering Orla to stop bothering them because she was _quite sure Gansey doesn’t need another brush of paint, thankyouverymuch_ ; her hair were a complicated mess of flowers and gems, an evident courtesy of the Princess, the paper-thin dress on her body somehow managed to look composed by hundreds different cloths.

They all looked absolutely stunning, in their bubble world of lively clutter, but Ronan’s eyes still managed to get trapped in the anchor of collected calm that was Adam.  
The paint on his body was carefully designed in subtle vines that followed the curves of his muscles and intertwined with his freckles; shocking and disordered splashed of red broke the pattern every-so-often.  
Persephone was carefully tracing his face with paint, as well, a mask on skin instead of a more traditional concealment. They all knew each other after all, better than any pretence.  
He was perfectly still and silent under the ministration, one arm slightly lifted for Chainsaw to settle in.

Ronan’s heart clenched. 

The drums were beating, faster.

His raven and Calla saw him at the same time, and they both rushed towards him, one calling for _Kerah_ , the other calling for _Snake_.  
He accommodated the first on his shoulder, the second in front of him to talk and finish the preparation.

“You sure took your sweet time, good think you’re all covered in ink by yourself”

“Noah was being clingy” he smirked “And it’s not like you couldn’t do it while I waited for all of them to exit the exact same tent before me, you know?”

Adam had noticed them as well and, even though he could not turn, Ronan was aware of his attention in the same way you are aware of the breeze against your skin changing direction.

“Too much risk, what if you got to into it? – And do not lift that eyebrow, Heavens, I’m trying to paint your face!”

His back and forth with Calla flowed without being prompted, without him really paying attention.  
In the light of the fire his eyes followed Persephone’s creation on Adam’s features, raven’s feathers bending and crossing to frame his blue eyes. He looked like he just lifted his face from Ronan’s shoulder and got forever imprinted by the black tattoo there. 

The drums were beating and beating and beating.

Calla was surely noticing that he was too still and not snarky enough under the ministrations of her creativity, whatever it was producing, but he could not shake his mind from Adam and Beltane ahead, from Gwenllian’s words just in the morning.  
Adam was in his life, she said, the fires are not going to shed a light on anything new and whatever is there is not going to fly away with the rest of the ashes. 

He knew, of course, that all of them were an exception in the way the rituals were usually conducted. Powerful and profoundly connected to each other, they kept going in rounds every year, away from the mysteries but still bringing homage and new life to the forest.  
Still, the shade of thousands life and endless nightmares whispered what ifs to his mind. The thought of never meeting Adam, tricked by the fate, was unsustainable; the mockery of having Adam lead to him during Beltane and then dragged away from him at dawn, year after year, was daunting.  
He will still be there and he knew it. Gwenllian was right and he knew it.

He was nervous.

The drums were beating, hurried.

Maura told them it was time just while Calla gave him an assessing look and a curt nod of approval to the appearance of her work on his face. He left Chainsaw with them.  
Walking beside one of the braziers to join the others, he could see himself reflected on the dark metal, dark green vines as thick as roots circled his cheekbones, brow-line and nose.

Whatever was throbbing inside him matched the beat of the drums.

In front of the two broad standing stones, at the very entrance of forest, the Voice, the Thought, the Mirror, the Magician and the Dreamer lined themselves for the priestess approval, for the King’s approval, for Cabeswater approval.

Fire burned high, the drums lifting them higher.

Gansey, Henry, Blue, Adam and Ronan went forward, one year more, towards the night of Beltane.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Gansey, Henry and Blue had followed a beacon of Cabeswater somewhere else, every force in the forest recognising that he could get the best of them if it could just get them together. 

Adam and Ronan were left equally together, on a different path, lead by out-of-season impossible fireflies, leaves whispering to them in a confused fashion.

They were too distant from the drums, but the beating still echoed through the forest.

Ronan, like the Dreamer he was, would have tried to push against the night, to resonate Cabeswater with his anxiety and to change shape to Beltane night until it was like any other night, its power burned away.

Adam, like the Magician he was, though, knew how to feel the flow, to make it stronger, to make it proper. He knew how to fix things without breaking them, and though he could not create them he could sustain the balance required by every creation. He knew Ronan, most of all, most importantly.

Ronan’s eyes followed the wobbling of his body while he tested the leylines encompassing the forest, while he listened to something; then he was forced to stop because Adam was no longer distracted and he was staring at him, and closing the distance between them at the same pace of the drums. 

The smile of Adam’s face while his eyes traced the painting was genuine and mysterious at the same time. Ronan was still under the touch of his hand on the pulse point.

“Look at you…so evidently mine” he murmured.

Ronan felt flooded with warmth, “And you…it’s not like you could be someone else’s”

Adam’s smile widened, like proving a point. He felt like he was in the council room and he just ended up providing the last piece of whatever strategy Adam was outlying without him asking.

“Tell Beltane that, tonight”

He staggered back when Adam pushed him, momentarily confused.

“Come catch me, Ronan”

He dashed off, in a flow of wind that sounded like the burning of fire.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Chasing a Magician in the forest that favoured him was a tough job, the scenery constantly mutating, confusing shape and tricks hiding his steps.

Losing a Dreamer in the forest that favoured him was equally tough, his will opening impossible paths, gentle suggestions to lead him in the correct directions, known creations that came back to please their creator in his task.

The leyline flared around them, beneath them, more powerful than ever and brutally diffuse, almost undirected. 

Ronan sweated, and swore, and kept running. He felt like he understood what Adam meant, now, deeply and properly; the leyline stretched between them and at the same time it pulled, trying to drag them back together.

 _That’s it_ , he thought, _bring him to me, bring us together, always and forever_.

The drums were beating and his chase was timed with them. 

He took a crazy turn, the trees of Cabeswater accommodating his path just like a knot of vines was building up between two trees. Adam’s laughter ringed of adrenalin and exhaustion just on the other side of it.

Ronan did not stop running, and rushed towards the vines, on the vines, climbing and leaping across them.

Adam was already rushing, beautiful and resourceful and everything Ronan ever wanted.

He propelled forward, or maybe the space shrunk between them, impossible and destined.

His arms circled Adam’s waist and they both tumbled onto the soft spring grass.

“Caught” he said, his grip possessive.

“ _Yes_ ” Adam exhaled, awed.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ronan felt frenzied, like a trunk just hit by a lightning, open wide to everyone to see in its deepest secret. But there was no one there to see, apart from the dome of trees above them and Adam firmly in his arms.

He came to appreciate the practicality of sending them in undergarments when a limited amount of squirming got them properly naked, slotted against each other like a gear.  
The grass was too soft and even, the air too warm, the impossible orange light of the fires bunched off trunks in the clearing without a real beacon to be seen for miles.

He wanted to touch and he wanted to be touched, desperately. 

Rocking slowly against Adam’s body provided some release; his arm draped over his shoulders and the span of his palm on the top of his hand against his short hairs were far more soothing.  
He licked away the faint trail of sweat on the side of Adam’s neck, before kissing and nipping at his still tense muscle. Adam twitched but kept him even closer, slotting him better between his legs.  
He kept rocking almost absent-mindly, not really in pursue of any pleasure but the one of reacquainting himself with Adam’s skin like he missed it for centuries.  
The path of his kisses trailed down, his left hand already venturing on Adam’s lean sides and his strong legs while his mouth preoccupied itself with his chest, the right trapped in Adam’s grip and close to his lips. His ministrations smudged the paint, but he kept going.

“This shit always tastes fucking weird”

“You did tried Jimi’s herbal infusions”

They were both snickering, and still far from stopping.

Ronan licked Adam’s nipple until it hardened and than sucked it with the same certainty he reserved to his neck and collarbone. A tight noise emerged from Adam’s throat and the impossible warmth of his tongue against his wrist and the suggestions of teeth against the line of his veins made Ronan gasp.

“I’m going to fuck you”

“Well, I’m not here to look at the stars – oh. _Oh_ ”

Adam’s sassy replies could only be topped in Ronan’s favourite things by Adam’s sassy and sexed out replies. So he chased the stuttering in his breath on the low of his belly, leaving him one arm as a rightful hostage but bringing the other around his body. He didn’t really build up the proper anticipation before sinking two fingers inside him, breaking his voice completely.

“Noah does know how to do it properly” he muses, while lazily tonguing the side of Adam’s hipbone, down the hem of his leg and back up.

“Saves time – _Ronan, shit_ ” the proper response was ushered and over-concise, the swearing more heartfelt while he insisted in his current path back and forth, chasing the increasing twitch of Adam’s body. “Too much” he tried to add, even less of a deterrent.

Ronan just slowly withdraw his two fingers, luxuriating in the wetness, and draw back three, his weight resting on Adam’s legs the only think that kept him for squirming away.

Adam moaned and Ronan just softly chased the freckles on his skin, any suggestions of his head brushing against the other’s hard rock cock only heaving his breath more.  
His other arm was still splayed up, and while needing and demanding pleadings did not seem to dodge him from his throughout tasting the weight of Adam’s cheek on the back of his hand stopped him in his track to look up. Adam looked back and just stroked his flushed skin against Ronan’s knuckles, moaning low.

Ronan’s mind collapsed, the frizzling of a lightning an insistent comparison again.

He slid his fingers out, grabbed the back of Adam’s knees and pushed his leg up against his chest, while leaning back to tower over him.  
Lining up and sinking inside him was the borderline point between need and necessity.

“ _Holyhell – AH!_ ”

Adam’s entire body seized, he clung at Ronan just as needy and hungry, rocking against him even before Ronan could muster the will to start thrusting.  
He complied to the obvious suggestions, his forehead against Adam’s while moving smoothly and insistently in and out of his body. The both of them moaned and got momentarily lost in the sudden pleasure of the connection.

Everything was drumming, his ears, his heart, the ground beneath his hands.

Adam sunk the nails in his shoulders and dragged him down further. Their mouth met and the kiss was desperate and open and wet.

He seemed to go on forever, burst of pleasure flowing from Adam, into him, and then back, everything still increasing towards impossible heights instead of subsiding.

“You’re so mine” Ronan moaned it desperate, between a statement and a plea, his voice shattered.

“Of course” Adam did not even miss a beat, nipping at his lower lip while coiled around him.

The thrum of the leyline was encompassing and alive beneath them, around them, across them.

From one moment to the other everything collapsed on itself, knotting together and entwining new fabrics.  
Ronan screamed and hold on tight. Adam arched in his iron-tight grasp and sunk his teeth in his shoulder.

Coming down the peak was just as impossibly prolonged as reaching it, their breath laboured while they laid on top of each other.

Ronan lifted up just enough to brush Adam’s curls away from his face, smudging away paint and sweat and so much power he could reshape Cabeswater anew.

Adam smiled, eyes glassy and reflecting fires too far away and too deep inside him.

“Do you know you’re not going to lose me, now?” Adam spoke again only after long minutes of silence, softly but seriously.

“No, but I know I can catch you back” Ronan replied frankly, a new awareness deep as a new blooming.

It did not feel like an arrival point, though.

They looked at each other, still brimming with forces within themselves and way bigger.  
Bonfires and their forest reverberation burned high enough to taint the sky, drum beats echoed through the trunks deep enough to dictate the pulse of their blood.  
Dawn was far down the line, the night of Beltane still roaring.

Adam pushed him up and then flipped him over, face down in the grass.

Ronan went, laughing.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I have to confess that I self-indulge in this AU more than I should for my own sanity (hence the reason I'm here posting at 2 am in the morning). I would have countless of ideas for this same verse...too many for my own good, and possibly enough for falling into the rabbit hole of a long fic. 
> 
> Also, not featured in the fic are the crazy smutty threesome times of Blue, Gansey and Henry. Persuading me to chat about them is ridiculously easy...
> 
> Every thought on my brand of craziness is really much appreciated.
> 
> Shouting at me on my [Tumblr](http://seekthemist.tumblr.com) is always an option!


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